The Strand Magazine, Vol. 01, January 1891: An Illustrated MonthlyVarious
General
The Strand Magazine, Vol. 01, January 1891: An Illustrated Monthly
Various
English literature -- Periodicals; Short stories, English -- Periodicals
As she did not comply with his request, he continued with a beating
heart, standing erect before her with his eyes fixed on her sadly, while
hers, as though apprehending danger to her life, were sometimes closed,
and sometimes roamed restlessly about the room.
"It is some years since I was obliged to flee from Florence," he
resumed. "You know, it was just the time of those political tumults, and
they lasted a long time. I am a lawyer, and know a great many people,
and I write and receive a quantity of letters throughout the year.
Besides, I was independent, proclaimed my opinion when necessary, and
was hated accordingly, although I never took part in any of their secret
plots and plans. At last I was obliged to leave the country with nothing
in prospect, if I did not wish to be imprisoned, and go through endless
trials. I went to Bologna, and lived there very quietly, attended to my
own business, and saw very few people, least of all any women; for
nothing now is left of the mad youth whose heart you so grievously
wounded seven years ago, save only that my head, or if you will, my
heart, is fit to burst when I cannot overcome any difficulty in my path.
You may, perhaps, have heard that Bologna is in an unsettled state, too,
latterly. Men of high position have been arrested, and amongst them one
whose life and habits have long been known to me, and of whom I knew
that all such things were foreign to his mind. My friend asked me to
undertake his case, and I helped him to liberty. Hardly was this made
public, when one day a wretched individual accosted me in the street,
and loaded me with insults. He was drunk and unworthy of notice; but I
could not get rid of him otherwise than by giving him a blow on the
chest. No sooner had I made my way out of the crowd and entered a café,
when I was followed by a relative of his, not drunk with wine, but mad
with rage and indignation. He accused me of having retaliated with a
blow instead of acting as every man of honour would have done. I
answered him as moderately as I could, for I saw through the whole
thing; it was all arranged by the Government in order to render me
powerless. But one word followed another, and my enemies at last won the
day. The other man pretended that he was obliged to go to Tuscany, and
insisted on having the affair settled there. I agreed to this, for it
was high time that one of our prudent party should prove to the unruly
ones that it was not want of courage that restrained us, but solely and
entirely the hopelessness of all secret revolutionary movements, when
opposed to so superior a power. But when I applied for a passport the
day before yesterday, it was refused, without their even deigning to
give me a reason for it; I was told it was by order of the highest
authorities. It was evident that they either wished to expose me to the
disgrace of having shirked the duel, or else to force me to cross the
frontier in some disguise, and thereby certainly cause my detention.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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